He recalled setting traps for a burrowing animal with particularly soft fur. His labor fed the tribe and the Creators used the skin and furs to create luxurious garments to trade at the market. The village had once lived. Like his tribe, it had been transformed into a memory. Now only ghosts and shadows remained.
The mountain provided warmth in the winter, hot springs and fertile soil. That too had been changed with the arrival of the Creators. Now what had once given life, threatened to end what remained of his tribe.
“Show me the new village,” he said.
Mishal, the male Flin knew to be a triad brother but could not entirely remember, touched his heartstone and gave a quick nod. They found the path as the healer described it.
Flin wished he could remember more. Places, people long gone, did not help him navigate now. Adding to his frustration was Pel and Mishal’s watching him with expectation, as if any moment the gaps in his memory would close and he’d finally remember who these two males were to him. They had formed a triad. Clearly, they meant something to him once, but he could not carry the burden of their expectations and still recover himself.
The only person who felt familiar was the one person he could not possibly know: Amber.
She sat with him, talked to him, and did not hold him accountable to a fading memory. She let him be.
The fact that his triad wanted to bond with her came as no surprise. What surprised him was that Pel and Mishal waited.
Flin did not believe that he would have done the same if their positions were reversed.
The dirt path veered away from the river and climbed a gentle rise that led to a bluff overlooking the river. At the top, the hovering transport discs functioned as a bridge from one side to the other.
“Ingenious,” he said, crouching down to admire the bridge’s anchor point. With a touch, the disc hummed to life.
“This place is such a strange mix of prehistoric and high tech,” Amber said. “Actually, why don’t you have hot air balloons? That’s low tech.”
“A hot air balloon?” Mishal asked.
“It was an early form of aviation we had on Earth. You take a, um, envelope? No, that’s silly.” Amber held up the water flask at her hip. “A bag, like this, but much bigger and attached to a basket. You heat the air inside the balloon. Hot air is lighter than cold air, so the entire thing lifts off the ground.”
Mishal rubbed his chin, absorbing her words. “And what is the point of floating such small objects and baskets? Is it to deliver goods?”
“Like a drone? No, balloons are much bigger. Big enough for a person.”
“What is the point if they only lift off the ground?”
“They don’t just hover over the ground, they can float right up to the clouds. They were used for scientific research at first. You could use it for cartography or transportation—”
“And be subject to the Ventos’ temperament,” Flin interjected. These balloons sounded needlessly dangerous. Yet the idea of floating up to the clouds intrigued him.
“We once had something similar,” Mishal said. “Lanterns were used to communicate over long distances.”
“Yes! Exactly. We should make a hot air balloon,” she said, eyes bright.
Flin liked to hear the excitement in her voice. Such a vessel would be dangerous. They’d be vulnerable to the Ventos as well as the whims of Sonhadra, but the ease of exploration called to him. “I will do this,” he announced, “but only when I am convinced it is safe.”
“Oh, I wasn’t asking for you to make one, but the Northern guys have those ice boats. I just wondered why you didn’t have something similar.”
“Come.” Mishal stepped onto the disc and held out his hand. “I would make you a home before a flying contraption, sweet one.”
Across the river, they found the site humming with activity. Humans and a few valo already lived there in tents. Tonai, another Shaper, gave them a quick tour. Stakes with fabric flags in the ground marked where houses would be placed. Their efforts had been focused on building a greenhouse and replanting the gardens as quickly as possible for a bountiful harvest in the autumn.
“It is not green,” Flin said. The rich aroma of freshly tilled soil filled the structure. Other than it containing green plants, he could not determine why it was called a greenhouse.
“But it is where we keep green plants,” Amber said.
“That is too simple.”
“Sometimes simple is best.” She grabbed his hand and lead him through the rows of raised beds.
This was a new place, free from the burden of memories. He felt free to be himself, whoever that turned out to be.
He liked it.
Chapter Seventeen
Flin
Working around the clock, it took Sarsen and Asche two weeks to revive all the valos in the Forge. Flin assisted. His memory grew stronger each day, and he understood the confusion and overwhelming rush of emotions as the new heartstone took hold. He would talk them through the pain as they took their first shaky steps.
By the time they arrived at the last, most difficult, valo, the level of the caldera had risen to critical levels, and the city was no longer habitable for the humans. The lower levels, including the service tunnels, had been swallowed completely.
Flin found Sarsen exactly in the same spot he left him last night: in the Forge. “Have you been working all night?” Flin asked.
Sarsen and Asche arranged a male near the renewal pool. The male’s features were well known to Flin.
Adar. A Hunter, like himself. His friend. They had spent many hours traversing Sonhadra, tracking the unusual animals the Creators requested for research.
Adar had a mate before the Creators came and changed everything.
Flin was unsure how Adar would react when he woke. Much had changed and not always for the best, at least from Adar’s point of view.
“Have the humans decided on a name for the settlement yet?” Asche asked.
“The humans are still debating.”
Sarsen brushed off dust and debris that landed on Adar’s form. “I am thankful of the great gift the Northern Valos have given our tribe, but I fear this one will not see it that way.”
To wake up and find that his mate was deceased, her body damaged beyond repair…
Flin knew he would be crushed under such a burden. Waking up after so long had been confusing enough. Without the support of his triad… He did not like to think of it.
Sarsen squatted over Adar, using his body weight to hold him down if he thrashed upon waking. Asche crouched near the head, hands pinning down the male’s shoulders. Flin felt a bit odd, watching the revival from this angle. When he had been revived, Sarsen and Asche’s face hovered above him. Now to see the same scene play out from a different perspective… It made him a bit dizzy.
How curious. He wanted to examine each new sensation but time would not allow such an analysis.
Asche primed the empty socket with some of the renewal fires. A healthy orange color spread under the dark grey of Adar’s skin. Sarsen placed the heartstone in the socket, pushing gently until it clicked in place.
Adar lay there, motionless, with no indication that he still lived. Flin knew from their previous work, they some could respond immediately and others took a few moments to wake. Each person responded differently to their new heartstones.
The Hunter’s body twitched with a sudden ferocity. Sarsen pressed down hands down on his chest, holding the male in place. Adar bucked and thrashed.
“Peace. You are well,” Sarsen said, using the firm, commanding voice that made so many of the tribe’s Soldiers fall in line.
A low, grating sound emitted from Adar.
“All is well. I’ve reinstalled your heartstone,” Sarsen said.
“Crea—”
“They are gone for a thousand seasons. You are free.”
The male smiled, eyes still closed. “I am dreaming.”
Flin had said similar words when he was re
vived, but the images of his dreams had since faded.
“You have a new heartstone. Your memories will return in time,” Sarsen said, helping the male sit upright.
“How?” Adar rubbed his heartstone.
“A new people have joined our tribe. Humans. They come from the stars. A human unlocked the vault holding our heartstones,” Sarsen explained. “Some were damaged.”
“This feels odd. Different.”
“You heartstone had been damaged. That one is new,” Flin said, crouching near his friend. “I have a new one as well. The sensation is odd, and your memories are hidden behind a veil of fog, but you will regain them in time.”
Adar rubbed the heartstone, considering Flin’s words. “My mate. Where is she?”
So he remembered that much.
Sarsen shifted to his feet, towering over the male. “I am sorry. Her form has been badly damaged.”
Adar starred up at him, confusion on his face. “Badly damaged? How? She was next to me when we came to the Forge.”
“I am sorry. She did not survive.”
The male’s face fell as grief replaced confusion. Unused to such pure emotion, he fell forward, one hand clutching at his heartstone. He howled in pain and rage.
The heartstone in Flin’s chest throbbed in sympathy. He had spent centuries trapped in his own airless prison, without his triad. When he woke, they were strangers to him, but their affection was not unwelcome. They brought him balance and stability while raw emotion surged through him, consumed him.
How would he react if he had been revived to no one?
Worse, still, to have lost the person he loved? Fear at losing Amber pricked at the back of his mind. Humans were far too fragile for this world. Though not bonded—yet—he could not imagine the devastation of losing his mate. It would end him.
“Show me her body,” Adar said in a rasping voice. He staggered to his feet.
Asche helped stabilize the male. “We cannot. She… crumbled.”
Adar closed his eyes and swallowed once. Twice. “My mate crumbled to dust?”
“Slag and dust, yes.”
“Then why did you revive me? Why did you bring me back to live without my soul!” Adar spun on Asche, pushing him away with a hard shove. Recently revived, he had a surprising amount of strength.
“Everyone gets revived. Everyone gets a choice,” Sarsen said, utilizing his most commanding tone.
“Take it back. Take it back!” Adar’s fingers scrabbled at the heartstone, but it would not budge. His attempts grew more frantic. Asche grabbed a hand to stop the male from injuring himself.
Sarsen and Asche’s attempts to restrain the male only escalated the situation. Flin recognized the desperation in the male’s eyes.
“Leave him,” Flin said.
“He will injure himself,” Sarsen replied.
“That is his choice, yes?”
Sarsen eased his grip and backed away. Adar backed into a corner, eyeing Sarsen and Asche with mistrust.
Flin approached cautiously, as he would a wild animal caught in a trap. “You are safe,” he said.
“Stay back!”
“You are safe,” he repeated again.
“Why did you bring me back? Why couldn’t you let me sleep?” Adar’s eyes darted around the Forge, trying to watch Sarsen, Asche, and Flin all at once.
“Everyone gets revived,” Sarsen said. “Everyone gets a choice.”
Flin knew from experience that the idea of having a say over their own autonomy was anathema to many valos. It proved too much for many to grasp.
“Choice. Freedom. More than a valo ever had under the Creators,” Flin said.
Hands on his heartstone, Adar shook his head. “No. No. Take it out. I don’t want it.”
“Do not make a rash judgment. Your mind is confused now—”
“How many times will you insist that I am confused,” Adar snapped. “I know my mind, and I know that this heartstone means nothing without my mate.”
“What of the tribe?” Flin eased closer.
“What of them? You say we have a choice, that we have our freedom now, but only if we choose what you want.”
“That is not true,” Sarsen said. Flin tossed him a pointed look. The male held up his hands by way of apology.
“You are my friend. Of course I want you to stay awake. The tribe needs you. I need you,” Flin said.
Adar rubbed his hands on the back of his head, lost in thought. Flin waited. He’d wait all day.
“How many do not want this?” Adar asked, finally breaking his silence.
“All have chosen to rejoin the tribe.”
“How many have lost their mate?”
Flin’s heartstone ached in sympathy. Many of the newly revived had lost mates, triad members, friends and even children. Everyone had a loss.
Everyone except him. Somehow, Flin had awoken to more. Guilt churned in his gut.
“We have all lost,” Flin said, lying to his friend.
Adar shook his head. “No. I’ve made my choice. Remove my heartstone. I will rejoin my mate in dreams.”
“Valos do not dream,” Flin said.
“Don’t we?” Adar held his gaze.
Unable to recall the images of his own faded dreams, the feeling of them swept over him with clarity. Hopeful and full of yearning, Flin had dreamed of his mate.
“Return to her,” he said.
Asche approached with a blade to pry out the heartstone.
“He is my friend. I will do this,” Flin said, taking the blade.
The edge slipped between the crystal and casing. He gave Adar one last questioning look. The male nodded.
Flin worked the blade until the heartstone popped out. The blade and crystal clattered to the floor. He pressed his head to Adar’s, holding the back of the male’s head as his body twitched.
Flin held his friend thus until the light left his eyes.
Chapter Eighteen
Amber
The tribe now lived at the new settlement in tents or simple mud-brick cabins. While shaping and building took almost no time at all, Mishal explained, they required raw materials. The abundance of building materials had been one of the factors that made settling in the original village appealing. At the new sight, wood had to be cut. Stone had to be hauled in from long abandoned quarries. Sand had to be dredged from the river to melt into glass.
The only material they had on hand was dirt, grass, and water. The mud bricks were not glamorous, but they were sturdy and with a stucco covering, would survive a rainy season or two.
The settlement was a work in progress. Against Amber’s strongest arguments, they named it Phoenix. Sure, the symbolism of rising from the ashes was not lost on her, but she couldn’t help but think of the Phoenix airport and every miserable hour she spent waiting to make a connecting flight.
High on a bluff, Phoenix commanded a defensible position yet had access to the river below.
Mishal and Tonai raised the walls around Phoenix, first, to protect the tribe from any critter that crawled out of the forest. A grid pattern within the walls laid out where houses would be built as well as the sewage system. Each house would have a toilet—yay—and a pump connected to an underground spring. The first hand pump installed produced cold, clear water.
They would have a bathhouse supplied by a natural hot spring. There were plans to build storage for food and supplies, a market at the river’s edge for trading with other tribes, and even build a greenhouse to grow the fruit that craved constant heat. Some of the suklaa trees had been replanted to form a new orchard outside the walls and fields were plowed to replant the garden. All in all, Phoenix would be a good balance for valo and human life.
“Are we there yet?” Amber smirked at her lame joke. She had repeated the question every few feet. Her guys didn’t get it, of course.
“No. We will inform you when we are there,” Mishal said.
“You know, I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t have to wear a bl
indfold.” Gently led by the hand, they guided her somewhere in Phoenix, presumably where they would build their home. Mishal had been super fussy about choosing the location site and went all artist about it. Everything had to be just so, and he wouldn’t tell her anything about the home he planned to build, no matter how much she bugged him. It became a game between them, her trying to wheedle out any information and him giving an enigmatic answer.
“Are we there yet?” Still fun.
“Yes. We are here.”
The blindfold fell away. They were outside the walls, near the forest in a clearing with a pool. Early green buds decorated the trees. A spring trickled down the rocks surrounding the pool. The faint, familiar aroma of sulfur hit her nose.
“Is that a hot spring?” The village would one day have a bathhouse fed by a hot spring, but at the moment it was either sponge bath around the fire or bathe in the river. She hadn’t soaked in a hot bath since, well, since that blizzard trapped her in the cave with Pel and Mishal. Practically ages ago.
Amber could easily picture herself soaking in the pool, listening to the bird calls echo in the trees while sunlight and shadows played across the water. A glass of wine would make it ideal, but she’d cope with tea. “This is it, isn’t it? The location of our home?”
“Do you like it?” Mishal asked.
“It’s perfect. I love it!” Quiet, away from the rest of the tribe but close enough for security, with their own private hot tub… Yup, perfect. “Thank you. This is wonderful.”
Mishal excitedly showed her the interior. He explained why he placed each window just so, to provide the best view. He pointed out the large, flat stones that circled the hearth. The stones came from the home of his childhood. His father cut the stones with a hammer and chisel, and he carried each stone across the river.
He hadn’t finished the small shed attached to the side, but it would be used to store foodstuffs. The floor was packed dirt now, but he’d replace it with glazed clay tiles once the sanitation system was complete. He demonstrated the hand pump with glee. Cold water splashed into a rough basin and drained away.
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